Sometimes I forget why I picked up a camera in the first place. I’ve never regretted it, I just sometimes forget. It started with the big brown dopey eyes of a Black Lab named Sarge. Followed up with the big droopy eyes of an English Mastiff named Ruby. They were quickly replaced by real babies, not that dogs aren’t real babies, they are. I took SO many pictures when I had Justin, which turned into SO many pictures of Justin and Luke.
I use to take the most useless pictures. Them sitting, them watching tv. The zombie stares when they got tired, the milk running down their faces … the chocolate piled around their mouth … evidence that they got into something they were not suppose to. Stuff toys, holding stuffed toys … playing with new cars. Wrestling, cuddling, just staring out the window. I photographed it all. Then somewhere about three years ago … I found other things to photograph. Other people in their moments. The more sessions I took on, the more I put the camera away when I wasn’t out photographing for others. The more missed photo opportunities on my own end. I don’t resent it at ALL. I just wish I remembered to pull out my camera more often when I’m just kicking around the house.
Today after school, I took my boys for haircuts. Dragged them out to my favorite spot to get a few shots of them growing up. Made me a little sad. And also a little more aware that I need to remember to capture their moments. Years down the road, all you have to show others is the photographs you have taken. Proof that those times did exist. I can share my memories of their childhood as they get older but nothing tells a story like a picture.
So today, I made some memories of that time when they were 8 and 5.
Adding one more to this set of pictures …
My dad with Justin and Luke. He was the worst one to control.
